Page 18 of My Brother's Best Men
Sophie’s lips turn up the slightest in the corners, and dare I say, that blush in her cheeks is because of me? It’s too tempting to believe the lie. Too tempting to fall back into old habits…
“What can I get you to drink, sir?” the waiter asks, and it’s only then I realize everyone is looking at me. Including Sophie and Eli.
“Oh, uh…I’ll just have a rum and coke, thanks,” I say, feeling out of sorts. How long was the waiter standing there? How long was I staring at Sophie like a fucking weirdo?
Panic rises in me, but I refuse to show it. Instead, I clear my throat and move to take a sip of my water as Carol hits her glass with a fork and calls all of our attention. The water does nothingto quell my thirst, or the heat rushing through me, because I can feel Sophie’s gaze on me, hot like a fire.
“To love and all its possibilities!” Carol says as the room echoes the sentiment, raising their glasses. I feel the faintest, softest touch as my glass clinks against someone else’s, and I don’t have to look to know who.
I glance at Sophie, at her hand that brushes mine, at her wide-open green eyes and pouty lips.
“Cheers to that,” I say as the water sloshes over the rim, chilling my skin with its cool touch. But not even ice water could kill my fucking erection, or the way my heart is thudding in my chest like a freight train, because she’shere.
Paradise can’t come soon enough.
4
SOPHIE
I swear,God hates me. He must, because why else would Elijah be sitting next to me? And why else would Benny bestaringat me like I’m a damn charcuterie board right now?
Not to mention they all look like picture-perfect romance novel boyfriends or something in their dressy casual slacks and dress shirts.
I’m acutely aware of Elijah’s proximity, of the heat emanating off of him, of his thigh brushing against mine. But I’m also acutely aware of Benny’s knee brushing against mine, his foot slipping into the space between my own feet as he spreads out underneath the table. And I’m more than aware of the way he’s staring at me, which makes my entire body feel like it’s on fire.
This feeling is…familiar.
Strangely comforting, even in a room full of my damn relatives. Aunt Susan and Uncle Bob are here, as are my mom’s second cousins Rebecca and Fredrick, and their kids—teenagers Ryan and Ella. Other than that, it’s just Raegan’s parents, the bridesmaids and the groomsmen.
But there’s something about the familiarity of their presence—Elijah’s warmth, Benny’s steely gaze, and Matt’s smile across the table—that make me feel like I’m truly home. And for a while it really does feel good, chatting with Aunt Susan and Ella, drinking my wine…even catching up a little with the guys about what they’ve been up to…
But of course, my mother has to break that bubble when everyone’s toasts are over and chatter dies down as the waiter comes to take our order.
“So, where is your other half, Sophie?” she asks carefully, putting me on the spot.
Everyone—and I meaneveryone—turns to look at me in question.
Fuck.
I swallow harshly as I set my wineglass down and clear my throat. As hot as I feel, it’s a surprise I’m not sweating over here, though I feel like one of those cartoon characters with the visible panic etched on their face. I steel my expression.
“Keaton’s sick,” I say. “Throwing up all night. Could be food poisoning from some bad sushi, or a stomach bug, or both honestly. You know how it is…office flu and whatnot.” I sip from my wine, trying not to meet my mother’s gaze.
“That’s terrible, baby,” she says, and I can hear the carefully covered disdain in her voice. Probably because it wasn’t part of the plan, but also because regardless of how annoying my mom can be, I know she was excited to Keaton. Myfiancé.
This perfect, attractive man with a sizable net worth who wanted to marry her disastrous, impulsive daughter.
And it wasn’t just her.
Sam and Raegan were excited to meet him too, and I know Dad has been talking the man up to the family, what with the news of our engagement and all.
And now, all that is just…
It’s gone. Disappeared in a puff of smoke like some second-rate magician trying to peace out of a bad show.
And if my mother knew the real reason Keaton is a no-show to the wedding of the century, she’d probably find some way to say it wasmyfault.
Because everything bad that happens is somehow my fault.
